


A Stormy Night

by Citrine (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Desperation, M/M, Slash, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Citrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Hound, an old inn on Dartmoor and Watson's got himself into an awkward  position:</p><p>Holmes stirred and threw his arm across my waist.  For a few seconds I lay quite still then I tried to move his arm without waking him. Holmes muttered something and settled himself spoon fashion against my spine. We had often slept thus when necessity or fortune required us to share a bed and I normally enjoyed our sleepy, nocturnal embrace, but now I lay trapped in his arms.   My bladder reminded me sharply that I had to void and that I had to do so very soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stormy Night

I woke from a confused dream of the open moorland we had traversed that day.  The howls of the satanic hound rang in my ears as I stumbled in Holmes’ wake through icy, fast flowing streams.

A shiver ran through me.  The room was shrouded in the deep darkness of a country night. It was cold too, despite the covers heaped upon the bed and Holmes sleeping at my back.  I was tempted to seek his warmth, to curl myself around him, but when I stretched my limbs I became aware of another sensation, one that had been responsible for my dream of phantom watercourses flooding across Dartmoor.  I needed to relieve myself.

The urge was powerful enough to have disturbed my rest despite the exertions of the day.  I cursed it silently and closed my eyes again.  If I could get back to sleep I might well slumber through to the morning. After a few uncomfortable minutes I managed to drift into a half-doze, but the rattle of rain on the ill-fitting windows brought me back to full wakefulness.  The pressure in my bladder told me that I would not be able to wait until morning. Whilst the pounding of the rain told me that it was going to be a cold and unpleasant dash to the old inn’s outside lavatory.  I tried in vain to find a position that would take the edge off my need, squeezing my legs together as I shifted about. It was no use I would have to either brave the storm or swallow my pride and make use of the chamber pot that the inn provided for guests who found themselves in my predicament.

Holmes stirred and threw his arm across my waist.  For a few seconds I lay quite still then I tried to move his arm without waking him. Holmes muttered something and settled himself spoon fashion against my spine. We had often slept thus when necessity or fortune required us to share a bed and I normally enjoyed our sleepy, nocturnal embrace, but now I lay trapped in his arms.   My bladder reminded me sharply that I had to void and that I had to do so very soon.  

“Holmes?” I whispered, hoping against hope that I could slip out of his hold and use the chamber pot without waking him entirely.

“Watson,” he murmured.

Holmes pressed more firmly into my back and I felt his erection through the soft cotton of his nightshirt and mine.

“Oh, heavens, not now.” I bit my lip and prayed that my exclamation had not reached his ears. Apparently it hadn’t because he tightened his grip on me with a sigh that I knew well.  This only ever happened when we slept in the same bed and when daylight came we would not speak of the criminal offence we had committed in the night.  

“Why not?” Holmes kissed the nape of my neck.

It was a fair question since I never refused our forbidden coupling; indeed on many occasisons I had instigated it.  I could not tell him anything other than the truth. “I need to pass water first.”

He went very still.

I pushed at his wiry arm. “Let me up, Holmes. It’s a foul night, you don’t mind if I use the chamber pot, do you?”

I don’t know quite what I would have done if he had voiced an objection.  The rain lashed the roof and I wasn’t even certain that I could win the race to the lavatory without disgracing myself. Holmes didn’t object, nor did he release me.

“How badly do you need to...to go?” He sounded quite unlike himself.

I bit my lip. “Very badly indeed. I need you to let me up now, old chap, otherwise we’re going to be sleeping in a puddle.”

“Oh, god.”

I felt the unmistakeable jerk of his cock against my rear. His reaction shocked me.  “Holmes, what the devil-“

“I can’t help it. I never could.” He kissed my shoulder and rubbed his face against my collar bone. I could feel him trembling. “Forgive me, dearest Watson, please forgive my depravity.”

“Oh, heavens.” I cannot pretend that I misunderstood or that I had never heard of such a vice before. I was a doctor after all, but I had never suspected him of it, not in all the years we had lived together. “I never knew...”

“I never meant you to know, but my body betrays me.” Holmes hid his face in my hair. “Do I disgust you?”

“No, I’m not disgusted.” Perhaps I ought to have been, but the emotion simply wasn’t there. I placed my hand over his, interlinking our fingers. “I just…what is it that you want of me?”

“Do you mind if I light the candle?” he asked.

I hesitated, whatever pleasure we had taken in one another before tonight had always been under cover of darkness, but the candle would only cast a soft glow and I wanted to see him. “Go on then.”

Holmes rolled away from me and I heard the strike of a match. I clenched my thighs together, regretting that I had agreed to the light. Oh, god, I had to pass water.

Holmes touched my shoulder. “Watson, are you in pain? I truly would not have you suffer.”

If I said yes he would insist that I relieve myself immediately and I almost succumbed to the temptation to answer in the affirmative. Only it wasn’t true, not quite, not yet. I shook my head. “It’s uncomfortable, but not painful. I just don’t want to humiliate myself by wetting the bed like a helpless child.”

“Don’t fret, I’ll look after you whatever happens.” Holmes bent over me and kissed my lips. “Believe me I won’t let you be hurt or embarrassed, only we two shall ever know what transpires here tonight.”

I trusted him completely. He was my Holmes, but not even he could control the frantic demands nature was making upon me. “I can’t wait very much longer,” I told him, “please take your pleasure quickly.”

He half-laughed. “I assure you, Watson, I’m quite incapable of doing anything else.”

Holmes rocked his hips and I felt his prick throb on my thigh. He tugged at my nightshirt, not seeking my permission to pull it up around my waist, although we had always kept the layers of cloth between us before. My prick, freed from the confines of my nightshirt, tried immediately to void. I moaned in desperation.

Holmes sunk down against my back and rubbed his bare prick on my posterior. “Oh, sweet god,” he gasped. “Tell me what you feel.”

“I have to go.” Suddenly I knew what would excite him even further. “I need to piss.”

He rutted shamelessly against me. I could feel his chest heaving and every frantic thrust jarred my aching bladder. I couldn’t stand much more of this and I prayed for him to finish quickly.  Holmes wrapped his strong arm around my chest and hooked his thigh over mine. He groaned. “Tell me, please…”

“I’m desperate, so very desperate. Oh, god, Holmes, I need to go.” I closed my eyes and gnawed at my lip. “I’m…it’s…I can barely hold my piss.”

Holmes moaned and shuddered against my spine.

I grabbed my prick and squeezed it hard. “Oh, lord, I’m going to piss myself.” Hot urine spurted over my fingers and I clamped down on the flow with all my might. “Christ, god, I’m pissing myself!”

Holmes’ hand clamped down over my frantically clutching fingers. “Oh, Watson…” He writhed and moaned. An instant later he went into shuddering convulsions of ecstasy.

It was all too much for me, too much sensation and too much emotion. I made one last half-hearted effort to hold back the flood. Then I hid my face in the pillow and let it flow. It was the most blessed relief I have ever known and in that moment I didn’t give a tinker’s damn for the consequences.

“Yes, oh, yes,” I whimpered into the pillow.

I felt Holmes move. He levered himself up on his elbow and twitched back the covers, exposing my leaking cock to his avid gaze. Holmes held his hand so that my stream splattered over it and I felt the aftershocks of his release shake through him. Even before I had finished pissing he had began to masturbate me and my own swift orgasm was every bit as violent as his had been.

We slumped together a tangle of arms and legs in that sinfully wet bed. I rolled over and we held one another tightly.

“I’m sorry,” we said almost in unison and we both laughed.

I rubbed my hand across my face. “It’s a disgraceful mess, Holmes.”

For some reason that set us off laughing again.

“What are we going to do though?” I asked when I had calmed down enough to speak.

“You strip the bed off and turn the mattress. It’s old and heavy flock, your…your piss won’t have soaked all the way through. I’ll steal some more sheets from the airing cupboard on the second floor landing and burn these ones in the furnace in the basement.”

“The chambermaids will notice when they come to make the bed.”

Holmes stretched his long spine. “We’ll be miles away by then, old friend, and they won’t dare to level any libellous accusations against us.”

I was guilty and embarrassed at breakfast the next morning, but it seemed that Holmes was quite right since we never heard anything more of the matter. However, Mrs Hudson had quite a lot to say the first time I had an unfortunate ‘accident’ in my bed at Baker Street.

 


End file.
